


The last thing he needs is another pair of panties

by sansaswildlinglover



Series: A-Z Kinks collaboration [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dry Humping, F/M, Foreplay, Jon has a collection, Lingerie, Sansa wants to replace that collection all on her own, Underwear Kink, also: they were roommates, minor Jongritte, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-04 03:17:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15832656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansaswildlinglover/pseuds/sansaswildlinglover
Summary: "Don't be silly," Arya had insisted. "It's only for a couple of weeks and Jon will be happy to have you.""Jon doesn't even know I'm coming to stay with him," Sansa had pointed out.But Arya had quickly fixed that by hollering: "Oi, Jon!" across the pub to draw his attention and within five minutes, the matter had been settled.***As she opened the top drawer, her mouth fell open. Inside it was a colourful collection of women's underwear. Sansa's first reaction was to shut the drawer and pretend she hadn't openened it, but her eyes lingered on its contents.***"So," Sansa started. "What you're saying is that all of that underwear belonged to different girls Jon has slept with?""Yep," Theon confirmed, making the 'p' pop."There was a lot of underwear in that drawer," Sansa mused.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the A-Z Kinks Collaboration, U for Underwear!
> 
> Title from the wonderful writing prompts blog @idea-garden over on Tumblr. Technically this was a crossdressing prompt, but I already had a crossdressing Jon in Silk & Fur, and I thought it would also fit my idea for an underwear kink fic :')

Sansa loved the little studio flat she'd been living in for two years. It was small and the building had no elevator, but she paid almost half the amount of rent compared to most of her friends, and the old couple who owned the building were the best landlords anyone could wish for.

After breaking up with Harry she'd taken to wandering the streets of Wintertown and desperate to get out of the flat they'd shared, Sansa had entered the tiny bookstore on the ground floor after seeing the sign in the window asking for help and offering a room, and she'd walked out with a job and a new place to stay.

She loved the high bay window with the pillowed seat, where she'd drink her favourite lemon tea and read in the last afternoon light, or look at the people out on the street as she wrote down new ideas. She only had one neighbour, a law student who rented the other unit, but she hardly ever saw him.

She wasn't planning on staying for more than another couple of years, but for now she was alone and still trying to figure things out in life and it was a little space she'd made entirely her own.

But when old Duncan had died in his sleep shortly after his wife Nan had passed away after battling cancer, their children had decided to sell the building and Sansa found herself looking for a new place.

Arya had told her Jon had a free room in his apartment. He'd used to share with Theon who had just moved in with his girlfriend Jeyne.

At first Sansa had been reluctant to accept the offer. Jon was a friend of her older brother Robb and to her younger siblings, he'd been almost another brother. But growing up, Sansa'd had little in common with Jon Snow, and though they'd always been friendly, she'd never been as close to him as any of her siblings.

"Don't be silly," Arya had insisted. "It's only for a couple of weeks and Jon will be happy to have you."

"Jon doesn't even know I'm coming to stay with him," Sansa had pointed out.

But Arya had quickly fixed that by hollering: "Oi, Jon!" across the pub to draw his attention and within five minutes, the matter had been settled.

***

Jon had already left for work by the time Sansa got up after spending her first night at his place. She'd never been what you'd call an early bird and without her job at the bookshop, she didn't have any reason to get up before ten in the morning. 

She still worked as a freelance writer and she'd also applied for a part time job in a shoe store a couple of blocks away from Jon's apartment —  also  _her_ apartment now, she had to remind herself. She'd told Jon she didn't want to impose any longer than necessary, and that she was only going to stay long enough to get back on her feet, but he had insisted that she could stay as long as she liked and that she didn't have to pay rent as long as she hadn't found a secure job.

She padded into the kitchen, wrapping her robe more tightly around herself, and found a tray on the counter. On it were a small lidded bowl and a paper bakery bag and a box of her favourite lemon tea, and a note that read:

 

  _Sansa_

 

_There's some leftover fruit salad,_

_and I got you an extra muffin!_

_Hope you like the tea..._

_See you tonight_

 

_Jon_

 

Sansa gaped at the tray and the note. In the fifteen months they had lived together, Harry had never done anything like this. Jon was only her roommate and this was only her second day living with him. Warmth spread in Sansa's chest at the sweetness of the gesture.

She put on the kettle to make tea and sat down to enjoy her breakfast. She rinsed her cup and plate and started humming to herself on the way to the bathroom. It was only when she'd arrived there that she realized she'd forgotten to ask Jon where he kept the towels. There were only two small cabinets inside the bathroom and she hadn't seen any in her own bedroom.

She felt a bit bad about invading Jon's personal space, but she really wanted to take a shower before heading out to buy groceries. She thought cooking him dinner would be a good way to show her appreciation. Tentatively she opened the door to Jon's room and tiptoed inside. Besides the queen size bed that filled up most of the room, there was a large wardrobe to her left and a dresser against the wall on the right.

She decided to try that first. As she opened the top drawer, her mouth fell open. Inside it was a colourful collection of women's underwear. Sansa's first reaction was to shut the drawer and pretend she hadn't openened it, but her eyes lingered on its contents. She counted three black thongs and a red one, a tiny lacy black bralette, a pair of women's boxers and three or four pairs of lace panties. There was a bra that could hold both of Sansa's breasts in one cup and a pair of silk shorts, and several other items under that first layer.

Briefly the thought crossed her mind that these items could have belonged to an ex-girlfriend, but given the many different sizes she could detect on sight, that seemed unlikely.  _Several ex-girlfriends perhaps?_ She couldn't imagine any woman being happy with her partner keeping his ex's lingerie in his bedroom. Her thoughts drifted to the time her parents' neighbourhood had been buzzing with the rumour that Mrs. Baratheon had caught her husband wearing lingerie that didn't belong to her.

She shook her head, closed the drawer and continued looking for the towels. Once she'd found them, she fled from the room, quickly closing the door behind her and darted to the bathroom.

***

"Jon has a what?!" Arya shrieked.

Sansa's eyes flitted around nervously as several people threw glances their way. "You heard me!" she hissed, flapping her hand to make her sister keep her voice down.

Arya sat staring at the wall behind Sansa, eyes glazed over and mouth twitching in what she thought must be a mix of disgust and fascination.

"Are you two talking about Snowy's underwear collection?" Theon slid into the seat next to Arya. "The boy has a bit of a kink. I guess you could call them trophies, if you know what I mean," he added without waiting for an answer, waggling his eyebrows.

Arya slapped his arm. "That's gross, Theon!"

 _Jon has an underwear kink?_ Obviously Sansa knew that people had kinks, but having very little experience herself, she'd never really given it too much thought.

"Well, obviously Jonny is not your average womanizer..." Theon shrugged. 

"No," Arya agreed, finishing her beer. "All he has to do is sit there like a lost puppy and you'll see a woman appearing by his side in a matter of minutes!"

"So," Sansa started. "What you're saying is that all of that underwear belonged to different girls Jon has slept with?"

"Yep," Theon confirmed, making the 'p' pop. 

"There was a lot of underwear in that drawer," Sansa mused.

"He's very good," Arya commented.

Sansa's lips parted in surprise. "Wait —  what? Have you... ?" She let her question trail off.

Arya made a face. "Eww, no, of course not! That would be like fucking my brother! It's just, he has a reputation." She shrugged.

"It's all on Ros, really," Theon clarified.

"What do you mean?" Sansa asked.

"You know Ros, right? —  Sansa nodded —  "Well, she's the one who wrote his number on that bathroom stall door."

"For a good time, call Jon Snow!" Arya added in an overly cheerful commercial voice.

"The man likes to please." Theon held two fingers in front of his mouth and made an obscene gesture with his tongue. Sansa's cheeks flushed with heat.

"It's not even really about the sex for him," Theon continued. "It's about what he's getting from it."

"Underwear?" Arya quipped.

"No," Theon declared solemnly, pausing for what he probably thought was a dramatic effect. "Validation!"

"I'm going to need another beer if you're planning to keep this up, Theon," Arya announced.

Sansa stared down into her drink, taking a sip to gather her thoughts, but by the time she looked up to ask Theon to tell her more, Jeyne had joined them at their table and the conversation had moved on to another topic.

***

Jon hated his father. His mother had told him the tragic story of the man who'd knocked her up, and so had the man's sister, his aunt Dany. He knew that Rhaegar had been a deeply unhappy man, unable to enjoy life, desperate to find a trace of joy anywhere it was available.

He had been married young, to a girl he'd believed to be the love of his life and they'd had two had children together, but after a couple of years Rhaegar had grown restless, like he always did, tortured by the gaping hole inside of him he would never be able to fill. 

Yet he'd tried, with women, music, liquor and drugs. Jon's mother Lyanna had met him before most of his addictions spiralled out of control. Her parents were strict and traditional and at sixteen, they had planned her whole life for her. She'd go to the same university her mother and grandmother had attended before her and then move back home to settle down in a house they'd picked out for her with the man of their choice.

To Lyanna it had felt like a death sentence. She'd taken the bus to the next town with nothing but the clothes on her back and her monthly allowance. Only days later she'd spent her last money on a blanket and a burger, and had ended up in a park defending a homeless man from two bullies who were harassing him.

That's how Rhaegar found her. To him, Lyanna's fierce courage was the next hit he so desperately needed, to her, he was salvation, or so she thought. Rhaegar was older and handsome and he had a guitar. He listened when she spoke about the things that were important to her and he encouraged her outspokenness instead of trying to smother it, like her parents always did. 

After only a couple of weeks they eloped — or at least they pretended to, Rhaegar was technically still married to his first wife, who had kicked him out when she found out he was hardly able to take care of himself. Three years later Lyanna had ended up back on her parents' doorstep with two-year-old Jon.

Jon had heard all the details of the story, at times he was even able to admit to himself that he felt sympathy for the man he often mentally referred to as his sperm donor, but he couldn't forgive him. At the age of fourteen he'd sworn he'd never become anything like his father. 

He'd made his own way in life and he'd found a stable job as a maths and accounting teacher. He tried to limit any excesses and did his best to save a little money every month. He owed a lot of it to the Starks. His mother had worked hard to give him everything he needed, but what Jon had truly wanted was a family and he'd found it his first day of secondary school when he met Robb Stark.

The Starks welcomed him into their home and he quickly came to love all of them, even Sansa who was a girly girl he didn't know how to talk to. So when Arya had suggested — though it'd sounded more as if she was informing him of her decision — Sansa could move into his spare room, he hadn't hesitated for even one second. ****

It was nice to have a roommate who could cook and did their fair share of chores. He never had to worry about coming home to any unpleasant surprises, the way he'd sometimes had with Theon. After a while he did notice that his apartment seemed to be invaded by a plethora of rubber bands and books, but he didn't truly mind that. Apart from the flowers she liked, he'd also noticed her sneaking in some new potted plant, candle or ornament every other week, but he decided he liked the homey atmosphere her additions created.

Best of all was that he'd discovered he enjoyed Sansa's company. She was funny and warm and still had high hopes for life despite everything she'd been through, and he found himself smiling a lot more than he was used to. They tried to cook and have dinner together as much as possible and they often found themselves on the couch watching a stupid movie together. 

He'd never thought he'd see the day he would sit through a romantic comedy, but Sansa's expressions and comments had been worth it. She would paint her nails or read a magazine when he picked something she didn't like, except when it was a thriller or a horror movie. In that case she'd curl up close to him, clinging to his arm and hiding her face against his shoulder or chest. 

She'd often sit in the armchair to read or write while he prepared his lessons or graded tests at the kitchen table. He'd found that he enjoyed the companionable silence during those moments. 

Lately, he suspected, he was finally becoming a real adult. Bringing girls home was a bit more difficult now than it had been when he'd shared the apartment with Theon, but he also no longer felt the need to spend all of his free time in the pub. He just liked being home and spending time with Sansa now.

But tonight he'd be home alone. Sansa was going out on a date with some idiot called Dickon her coworker Mya had set her up with. Jon hoped he didn't live up to his name. He didn't feel like staying in on a Friday night, so after taking a shower and changing clothes, he headed out to the pub.

It was still early, and he didn't see any familiar faces. As he sat nursing his first beer, he munched down a sausage roll. The tables around him started to fill up and by the time he ordered his second drink even half the stools at the bar were occupied.

He'd barely taken his first swig, when a woman pulled down the chair opposite him and sat down in it. His ex-girlfriend Ygritte offered him a wide grin.

"Fancy seeing you here, Jon Snow," she greeted him.

His fingers tightened on his glass and he gritted his teeth. She barked out a short, sharp laugh and reached for his beer. He winced, masking the movement by lifting the drink to his lips.

"It's nice to see you, too," she smirked before turning to draw the waitress' attention. He ignored her while she waited for her order. 

Ygritte had been his first real girlfriend. Part of fourteen-year-old Jon's oath to never become like his father, had been to stay away from girls. Sure, he'd kissed Alys Karstark in the bikeshed a couple of times, but that had been as far as he'd been planning to go.

But at sixteen,  he'd lost his virginity to Desmera Redwyne. He'd been oddly fascinated by the way her freckles stood out when she smiled and the first time she had put his hands on her breasts,  he'd squeaked and run, but somehow she'd gotten him alone at a party shortly after and he hadn't been able to refuse her.

He had met Ygritte when he was eighteen and though they had been in love, neither of them had been willing to compromise any of their plans for the future, so they'd parted ways after a short but passionate romance. They'd even tried to rekindle their relationship a couple of years ago, but they had discovered that they were too different to ever truly work as a couple.

After that he had only had a couple of short flings and mostly casual encounters. He often wished it were different, but women only seemed to like him for his bedroom skills, and though it often left him feeling empty, he could never resist an opportunity to make a girl moan his name and claim a pair of panties.

Jon leaned back in his chair and tried to relax. He knew Ygritte well enough to realize that she wasn't going anywhere, so it would be better to humour her, at least for a while. 

As she went to order another round at the bar, Jon found himself wondering how Sansa's date was going. Part of him hoped she was having a good time, but he was just a little worried as well. What if she really hit it off with this Dickon and she decided to move out again? Jon would miss her and he'd be on his own again.

Ygritte returned with their beers and started telling him about the new motorcycle she'd bought. He wasn't quite sure why he agreed when she asked if he wanted to go for a ride, but twenty minutes later he found himself in front of Ygritte's building,  accepting her invitation to come upstairs for a drink.

He wasn't even surprised when she let her leather jacket slide down her arms and threw herself at him without even trying to keep up any pretenses by actually offering him that drink.

She ran her hands down his chest as she nipped at his lower lip. He put a hand on the small of her back to steady her and kissed her back.

"Gods, I've missed that mouth," she muttered. She pulled away to reach for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, revealing her bare upper body. She had small firm breasts,  and she didn't like wearing a bra.

He dropped his own jacket and reached for her waist.

She closed the gap between them and tucked her hand into his belt to tug closer to the sofa, cupping him through his jeans. She toed off her shoes and unzipped her jeans, revealing a red lacy thong. He eyed it suspiciously. Ygritte had always been more of a cotton briefs kind of girl. 

"I knew you'd like it," she said with a grin when she caught him staring. "I wore it especially for you," she added as she lay back on the couch. 

He put one knee on the arm rest,  but something stopped him from moving further.

She frowned at him. "Come on, Snow, I really need a good fuck!"

Ice churned in his stomach. He stepped back and picked up his jacket. 

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Ygritte cried out.

"I changed my mind," he told her gruffly. "If you want to get off, do it yourself."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot... I blame Jon and his issues :')


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason it took me forever to write this chapter...
> 
> Oh, and in case anyone is wondering: Bryan is Hot Pie :')

It was still early when Sansa returned home from her date. She thought it had gone well, and Dickon seemed nice enough, but she wanted to take things slow. 

She'd taken an uber home and changed into more comfortable clothes. Jon wasn't home and she was feeling too fluttery to stay in and read a book or watch Netflix on her own, so she decided to walk to the pub at the end of the street.

She suspected that was were Jon would be as well, so she wouldn't have to worry about walking home alone in case none of their friends were there. The pub was crowded when she got there, and it took her a while to find a familiar face. 

"Sansaaaa," she heard moment moments before Jeyne crashed into her, smelling of cigarette smoke, perfume and wine. She hugged her friend and pulled away, taking in her slightly unfocused eyes and relaxed smile. "How was your date?"

"Good," she replied automatically as Jeyne grabbed her elbow, dragging her along until they were standing right at the bar. Before she could object, Jeyne ordered her a vodka lemon.

She said 'hi' to Theon, Arya, Gendry and Bryan and talked to Marge and Yara for a while. There was no sign of Jon.

When Jeyne shoved a second vodka lemon into her hands, she clasped her by the shoulder and asked: "Where's Jon?"

"He left with Ygritte about an hour ago," she practically shouted into her ear.

Sansa got a bad taste in her mouth as a cold sensation seeped into her body. She downed half her drink in one go, making Jeyne giggle.

She'd seen it happening several times since the night Theon had divulged Jon's secret. Jon was usually quiet when they were in a larger group, he'd sit on his stool, nursing a beer and following the conversation, until a girl approached him.

Jon wasn't a smooth talker, but he listened to whatever this girl was telling him and he looked at her with those irresistibly soft eyes. It might take half an hour or two hours, but at some point he would get off his stool and lead the girl out the door with a hand on the small of her back.

He didn't seem to have a type. She'd seen him walk out with an athletic woman with honey blonde hair he seemed to be familiar with, but he'd also gone home with a small curvy girl with dark skin and raven ringlets. The weirdest incident had been when he'd left with a woman with dyed red hair who must have been in her forties.

Sansa had seen Ygritte before, she knew she was Jon's ex, but they had barely spoken. Still, she'd gotten the impression that for some reason Ygritte didn't particularly like her. 

Suddenly Sansa felt rather miserable. She finished her drink too quickly, no longer participating in her friends' conversation, and when Bryan announced he was going home, she leapt to her feet, feigning a headache.

She tried to pay attention to Bryan's chatter as they walked to the other end of the street, but she was relieved when she was able to say goodbye to him, positive she'd already forgotten every single word he'd said to her.

When she unlocked the door of the apartment, she noticed the light was already on in the hallway.  _Splendid,_ she thought. She wasn't sure why, but she didn't want to see Jon's annoyingly handsome face right now. And what if he'd brought Ygritte home with him?

The living room was dark, so her best chance was to sneak past Jon's bedroom door and the bathroom and into her own room, though her bladder protested at that suggestion.

It seemed fate or the gods or whoever influenced such things were against her tonight. The bathroom door clicked open and she almost stumbled into a half-naked Jon.

"Sansa?" he asked, a crease forming between his eyebrows, though she hardly had any time to acknowledge that as her eyes travelled lower. Water dripped out of his damp hair in small rivulets, over his shoulder and collarbone, drawing her attention to his toned chest and hard abs and lower still to the towel slung around his hips.

She wanted to chase those water drops with her mouth, licking and sucking them from his skin, run her hands over his hard muscles, perhaps even pull that towel off.

"Sansa?" he repeated.

Her chin jerked up and she forced herself to meet his eyes again, trying to ignore the flush of heat in her cheeks.  _Sansa Stark, you're drunk,_ she told herself.

"I'm sorry, what?" she managed to ask as she took in the look of expectation on his face.

"I asked: how was your date?" The creases on his forehead returned. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, no, yeah, good! I mean, I'm fine!"  _Why do I sound like a bumbling idiot?_

He gave her a look that told her he seemed to doubt it, so she added: "My date went well! Did you know that Dickon is Sam's younger brother?"

"Sam Tarly? No, I didn't know that."

She licked her lips and nodded, annoyingly aware how hot her face felt. "I err, I need to use the bathroom," she muttered, pointing at the door behind him. "There's no one else in there, right?" she added before she could stop herself.

"No, Sansa," he said slowly. "It's just you and me..."

"Great!" she answered, averting her eyes. "So if I could just..."

"Of course," he said, finally stepping aside to let her into the bathroom. 

Later, when she'd removed her make-up and changed into her pyjamas, after she'd tied her hair into a messy knot before crawling under the covers, just when she was about to fall asleep, she was startled from her half-awake, slightly tipsy haze. 

 _Oh no,_ the voice inside her head cried out,  _you stupid, stupid girl._  

***

"What do you want to watch?" Jon asked, struggling to keep his eyes on Sansa's face as he turned to her. 

Instead of her usual indoor outfit - tank top and leggings - she was wearing pink silk pyjamas, consisting of a v-neck top with thin straps and a pair of shorts that barely covered two inches of her thighs. 

"Your pick tonight," she reminded him. "But nothing with Steven Seagal," she commented as he flipped through a selection of action classics.

"What's wrong with Steven Seagal?"

She shrugged and made a face.  "I just don't like him."

He moved on to horror. " _The Hills Have Eyes_ gives me nightmares," she objected when he paused on it.

"Do you want to pick the movie, Sansa?" he sighed. 

"No," she pouted, drawing his attention to her plump pink bottom lip.

Afterwards Jon couldn't remember which movie they ended up watching. It was to hard to focus on anything but Sansa in her flimsy, tiny pyjamas.

Several times he caught himself peeking at the low neckline revealing the swell of her breasts and her nipples poking through the thin fabric. 

After his eyes had travelled up and down her long legs, he found it hard to stop imagining what they would feel like,  wrapped around his waist or to picture her thighs clamped around his ears.

He cleared his throat and she blinked, offering him a smile. She reached for a fleece blanket, covering her legs with it, and he couldn't decide whether he felt relieved or disappointed.

She smiled at him again and he realized he was still staring.  _Shit,_ what if she'd grabbed that blanket because he was making her uncomfortable? 

But then she lifted the edge of the fleece and hid her face, carefully peering at the screen with one eye.

Instinctively he reached for her hand, squeezing her soft, slender fingers. She squeezed his back and moved closer to him, throwing half of the fleece over him as she snuggled into his side, still holding his hand.

Her hair smelled like lavender and something fruity, and her breast was warm and soft were it was pressed against his upper arm. Her cheek was resting against his shoulder and he could hear her soft breathing.

Somehow sharing a blanket with Sansa, safely hidden away from the world seemed incredibly intimate to Jon. He wondered when the last time had been he'd felt so close to another person, and came up short.

He tried to imagine what they would look like to someone watching them and his heart sped up at the thought. Anything could be happening under their blanket. He could be touching her anywhere.

He cleared his throat and retracted his sweaty hand from hers, but Sansa shifted so he could wrap his arm around her. She put her hand on his chest, right over his heart and hid her face, nuzzling into him. She'd done this before, why did it feel so different now?

He wondered what would happen if he hooked his hand under her thigh and pulled her into his lap, or if he pushed her back until she was lying down and he could cover her body with his own.  _Gods,_ it would be divine to have her glancing up at him, those big blue eyes dark and hooded and her face flushed, biting her lip and sighing his name!

He made the mistake of looking at her and noticed the fleece had slipped from her shoulder, and so had the strap of her top, baring her collarbone and part of her breast. It took all his strength not to lean in and let his mouth explore that expanse of creamy, soft skin, but his dirty mind was already imagining what she'd taste like.

He reached for the fleece and pulled it back over her shoulder, tucking it behind her, brushing a strand of hair away so it wouldn't get caught. She glanced up at him and his hand froze over her ear, an apology ready on his tongue, but she licked her lips, her gaze dropping to his.

She was close enough for him to count her thick eyelashes and the tiny freckles on her nose. Her hot breath fanned out against his face and her hand tightened on his shirt, nails slightly digging into his chest. He swallowed heavily and leaned in to close the gap between them.

"Hey Jonnyboy!" Theon's voice thundered from the hallway.

Sansa jerked back, snatching the blanket with her to wrap it around her body, leaving Jon feeling as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he snapped when Theon entered the living room with a huge grin on his face. "How did you even get in?" 

"I still have a key remember?" he reminded him. "You weren't answering your phone," he added, as if that explained everything.

Jon pushed himself to his feet. "It's charging in my room," he muttered angrily.

"Oh, hi there, Sansa," Theon greeted her, sitting down on the coffee table and thrusting his hand into a bowl of crisps she had put there earlier, but which she and Jon had forgotten about.

His eyes narrowed on the blanket wrapped around Sansa's shoulders. He looked from her to Jon and back and shoved some crisps into his mouth. He grabbed another handful as he chewed and used it to point at them.

"Am I interrupting something here?" he asked around a mouthful of crisps, eyebrows shooting into his hairline.

Sansa's face turned crimson and she forced out an embarassed "no" as she veered up and fled to her room.

"Thank you very much, Greyjoy!" Jon seethed, but mentally he added:  _You fucked up, Snow!_  

***

Maybe it was for the best that Theon had interrupted them, Sansa thought as she woke up the next morning.

Her impulsive decision to wear her nicest pair of pyjamas for movie night seemed like an idiotic plan in hindsight.

At some point, she'd been sure Jon was responding to her outfit and to her physical proximity, but now she feared she'd completely misread his reactions. 

Or worse, what if he really had been interested and they'd taken it further, but she scared him off by saying or doing the wrong thing? After all, she'd never been the one to initiate sex when she'd been with Harry.

Her friends had called him selfish and boring and "a man of simple tastes", but Sansa couldn't help thinking it might have been her fault. She hadn't been able to keep Harry from straying.

 _No, stop,_ she told herself.  _It wasn't your fault._ Harry made the decision to cheat, instead of communicating about any hypothetical bedroom issues. Even if had been unhappy with their sex life, he was the irresponsible one, he did the immature and hurtful thing that destroyed their relationship.

Sansa repeated her therapist Brienne's words until they drowned out the mean voice inside her head, but part of her remained insecure.

Perhaps her inexperience did make her boring and prudish, and Jon had been with so many women,  what if she disappointed him?

Brienne wouldn't be of any use to assist her with this, what Sansa truly needed was a little help from a friend.

***

Margaery's large brown eyes grew wider and wider as she sipped her watermelon lemonade while listening to Sansa's story. When she'd finished telling her friend about Jon's collection and her plan, Marge grabbed her hand and sighed dramatically. 

"I'm so proud of you, San," she cooed. "Finally my good influence is starting to pay off!" She held up a finger and reached for her phone. "I need to text Yara she owes me 50 dragons. She bet Jon would be the first to come to me."

Sansa's lips parted in surprise and she started to ask what Margaery was talking about, but quickly thought better of it. She waited for her to finish her typing her text. Marge folded her hands over her plate, resting her chin on her fingers and offering Sansa a slow smirk.

"So, you want to get some sexy lingerie to seduce your man?"

Hearing Marge saying it out loud like that made her cheeks burn, but she nodded.

"I know the perfect place to go, Sansypants!"

Sansa's eyes flitted around the store, overwhelmed by the amount of lace, mesh and silk, and what she thought must be leather in the far left corner. She moved to what looked like a relatively safe section and fingered a baby blue satin chemise. 

"Nuh-uh," Marge tutted, taking her by the wrist to drag her along. "You're not inviting Jon to a slumber party. How about a nice corset?"

Sansa made a face.

"No? How do you feel about this right here?" Marge stopped in front of a mannequin wearing a bra that consisted of black satin ribbons, crisscrossing over its plastic breasts, covering its nipples and little else.

"Absolutely not!" 

"Okay, let's have a look around then, shall we?" she conceded. "I'll be over there."

Sansa shuffled her feet, looking around to decide where to start. The shiny black leather in the far corner was a definite no. She already owned a couple of nice pastel lacey sets and one black bra and thong combo she'd considered a bit risqué when she'd bought it, but it would look tame next to anything that was sold in this particular store.

She pulled a random item from a rack, finding herself looking at a long-sleeved lacy plum crop top with an open back. On the next hanger she chose was a sheer black jumpsuit, which had a tag that read "bodystocking" and a price that made her queasy.

She moved to another section, but quickly left it once she realised all of the bras there only had quarter cups. Marge chose that moment to return with a lacy red bralette with a high collar and a matching thong that had black satin bows and a string of shiny beads running from front to back.

Marge caught her eyeing the panties. "Oh no," she chuckled. "These are for me. But I can get you a pair if you want."

Sansa offered her a weak smile. "No thanks."

Margaery led her to a rack with bodysuits and pulled out two teddies, one black and one blush.

Sansa bit her lip. "How is he ever going to get me out of those?" she wondered aloud, studying the hooks and straps on the contraptions her friend was showing her.

Marge raised an eyebrow, lifting the underside of the blush teddy, pointing out the open crotch. "He doesn't need to get you out of them," she winked. Her face fell at the sight of Sansa's panicked look.

"Hey now, babe, I thought you wanted something special to seduce your man," she tried to hush her while tossing the scanty underwear over a plush armchair.

Sansa sank to the floor, her back against the wall, pushing her hair from her face. "If this is the kind of special I need to seduce him, maybe I should just give up," she muttered.

Margaery kneeled in front of her, hands cupping Sansa's knees. "Now, listen. All you need to entice him is right here." She released one of Sansa's knees to make a vague wrist gesture. "We're just trying to find something nice to wrap you up and make you feel more confident, but  _you_ are the present, babe."

Sansa nodded, swallowing the burning lump in her throat.  _Stupid little girl,_ she thought.  _Bet I look sooo attractive right now._

Marge squeezed her hand. "How about we just find some things  _you_ like and then we can go for a coffee and some lemon cakes?"

She nodded weakly, even if being coddled like this made her feel even more like a silly girl with no experience. 

"After everything you've been through, you deserve this chance," Marge whispered. "You survived Harry.  This is nothing. You can do this!"

She nodded again, a bit more certain this time.  _Yes, I can do this._

"But what if he rejects me?"

Margaery's smile was bright. "Even if he did, it wouldn't be the end of the world, but trust me, he won't!"

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late... AGAIN  
> My procrastination game is too strong *deep sigh*
> 
> I had about 75% of this chapter finished, but then I hated it and had to start all over again... I also originally included a scene that turned into a one shot idea... Seriously, why am I like this? :')
> 
> Anyway, here's the final chapter, which is basically 4K of smut, with a lot of foreplay!  
> I was really anxious about getting this right, so I hope you'll enjoy it! :)

Jon had been up to his ears at work for the last couple of weeks and he'd hardly seen Sansa since the  _incident,_ as he mentally referred to it. He couldn't stop wondering what would have happened if Theon hadn't interrupted them. Sansa had seemed into it, of that he was sure, but as days went by, his confidence about the whole situation started crumbling, especially as he wasn't getting another opportunity to pick things up where they'd left them. 

He found himself thinking about Sansa in her pink pyjamas all the time. His thoughts would drift to her when he was supervising exams or grading them. Images of her face and body would fill his mind when he was lying in bed at night and when he was taking a shower, he was ashamed to say, he often did more than just think about her.

Sansa had always been pretty and since she'd moved back to this part of town he hadn't been blind to the fact that she'd grown into a radiant woman. But Jon had known a lot of pretty women, even a couple he'd call beautiful, but beauty by itself had never been enough to make him want a woman, though it had never really mattered. Usually them wanting him had been enough: their desire for him was what had turned him on, but occasionally he'd meet a girl he was truly attracted to.

He was attracted to Sansa, there was no denying that, but slowly the realization was starting to seep in that he was feeling even more than simple attraction for Sansa. Living with her had possibly been the happiest he'd been in a very long time, and he might ruin that by trying to talk to her about his feelings, but he knew he owed it to her to be honest. He might lose her in the process, but he was planning to tell her the truth. 

***

Sansa sipped her tea to suppress a nervous smile as she heard the click of a key turning in the front door's lock. She felt oddly giddy and daring, wearing her new lingerie under her robe. She pulled her feet up under her blanket to hide her stockings and pretended to be enraptured by the article she was reading.

Her heart started speeding up and her breathing grew a little shallow as she heard him walking into the living room. She bit her lip. The words on the page before her were dancing and she couldn't make them stop. 

"Hi," Jon said softly.

She looked up at him, a stupid grin taking over her face. "Hi," she greeted him back, her voice high and breathless. 

His answering smile made her heart launch into a series of summersaults. "So, um, I'm gonna take a shower, but I was thinking we could order pizza after?"

"Sure!" she told him, watching as he disappeared into the hallway, trying not to stare at his ass for too long. She tossed her magazine aside and took a deep breath.  _Come on, Sansa, you can do this._

She hurried out of the living room, tiptoeing past the bathroom door to retrieve her simple black heels from her bedroom before tracing her steps back and slipping into Jon's room.

She sat down on the bed to slip on her heels. She let her robe slide down to the floor and walked up to the full length mirror in Jon's wardrobe. She liked the way her boobs looked in her new bra and the royal blue of it looked nice against her pale skin. Her legs were one of her best features, but she wished her stomach was a little flatter. She also had a small dimple in her left ass cheek that sometimes worried her.

 _Stop!_ _You're sexy, you're beautiful, you're confident,_ she told herself. The door clicked open. 

***

The last thing Jon expected as he walked into his bedroom was to see Sansa standing next to his bed in nothing but a bra, a pair of cheekies and thigh highs. She was standing with her back to him and in a matter of moments his eyes had travelled all the way down to her black heels. He slowly trailed them back up to take in every detail. 

Two dark lines ran up the back of her long calves, the sheer navy stockings ending in a border of flowery lace high on her shapely thighs. The panties were lace as well, but a lighter blue, and they were cut out in a heart shape. He licked his lips at the way they framed her firm round ass. The bra had a patterned lace racer back, making his hands itch to trace the skin it revealed.

She turned around, biting her lip and shyly glancing up from under her lashes as she curled the end of her braid around one finger. The motion drew his attention to her cleavage, and he couldn't stop his eyes from following her soft curves down to her panties, which were embellished with a small bow centred with a rhinestone. 

Her hand slid from her bra down to her panties and back up. "Do you like it?" she asked.

He gulped and nodded, his eyes still feasting on the glorious image before him. 

"I really hoped you would. I bought all of this for you," she purred.

"Really?" he managed to choke out before closing the distance between them. Tentatively he reached up to tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear, gazing into her bright blue eyes as he traced the shape of her lips with his thumb.

She was taller than him in her heels, but that didn't bother him as he cupped her cheek to gently pull her mouth down to his, his other hand snaking around her waist to rest at the small of her back.

He captured her lips with his, pulling her flush against him and was immediately reminded that he was only wearing his boxers. His skin was still damp and warm and when it made contact with hers, a divine thrill passed through it, making him all hot and hungry.

Her hands sought purpose in his hair and on his chest as she started kissing him back. He groaned as her fingers pulled on his hair and she slipped her tongue between his parted lips, flicking it up to the roof of his mouth before coaxing his own to move with hers.

She tasted like her favourite lemon tea and a hint of honey. Jon preferred coffee, but he liked the flavour on her, it suited her. He was mesmerized by the slide of her tongue against his own and the feel of her soft warm skin under his hands. 

He poured everything he'd been holding back for weeks into this kiss, swallowing her moans, and she returned it with just as much passion, pushing her body into his so hard that he staggered and smiled against her lips.

His hands slid down her sides, coming to rest on her hips and kneading the luscious flesh of her ass. She yelped as he lifted her off the ground, wrapping her arms and legs around him as he turned around to carry her to the bed.

He mentally thanked the gods he'd just put new sheets on the bed yesterday, momentarily forgetting that Sansa had washed them and placed them on his dresser.

She clung to him as he braced a knee on the bed to climb on it, their mouths still glued together. When he laid her down on the mattress, one of her shoes thumped down on the covers and their noses bumped together.

The heat in his body was building, rushing through his veins and gathering in his groin. He left Sansa's lips to trail kisses down her jaw, as her hands roamed up and down his back, his own cupping the side of her face.

He moved his lips lower to lick and suck on her neck, but her body was no longer following the rhythm of his mouth. Instead she was tensing up under him.

He pulled away, taking a couple of deep breaths to steady himself and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, rolling onto his back and pulling her along so she was straddling him.

She licked her lips nervously, combing her hair back with her fingers. "We ought to- Shouldn't we discuss this first?"

He chuckled. "You're the one who decided to seduce me," he pointed out, pushing himself up on his elbows.

She cast her eyes down, her hands slipping in the same direction. "I just- What is this? Is this a one-time thing? What happens after?"

For the first time since he'd entered the room, his rational mind started taking over again. It was a good question, and he thought that the fact that she cared about that was a positive sign, but he wouldn't allow himself to get his hopes up. "What do you want it to be?"

"I... Well, we live together... I don't want things to be... awkward," she muttered, palms flat against his chest, but he didn't allow her to push him away.

 _Don't be a coward now, Snow._ He sat up and took her hands, lacing their fingers together. " _I_ don't want this to be a one-time thing." He swallowed heavily and searched her face. 

She ducked her head. Her voice was so small when she whispered: "Really?"

"Really," he confirmed, and the most adorable smile pulled up the corners of her mouth.

He'd never been good with words and Sansa didn't seem to be able to say any more either, so he just pulled her closer and kissed her again. 

When they parted for breath, he pressed their foreheads together and asked: "Anything else you're worried about?"

Her fingers played with the curls at the nape of his neck and she took a deep breath. "I don't have a lot of experience," she confessed.

He nudged her nose with his and cupped her cheek to make her look at him. "Don't you worry, love," he told her, leaning in to press a quick peck to her lips. "I'll make this an experience for you."

***

Sansa moaned around Jon's tongue as his hands slid down her sides, making her shiver under his touch, until his large warm palms settled on her hips. She framed his face in her hands, sucking on his soft wet bottom lip and stroking his beard with her thumbs.

Heat was pooling in her belly and spreading through her limbs, making her feel tight in her own skin. She dragged her fingers down his chest, slightly raking her nails over his skin, desperate to feel his hands all over her again.

He hissed and tightened his grip on her hips, pulling back to look at her with those stormy grey eyes and kiss-swollen lips. "Can we take this off?" he asked hoarsely, circling a nipple through the lace of her bra.

She nodded and guided his hands to the clasp between the cups. He tugged it open and her bra fell apart, baring her for his hungry eyes. Cool air hit her breasts and she had to resist the urge to cover them with her hands as she shrugged out of the bra.

He whined and pulled her closer with a hand on the small of her back, closing his mouth over her puckered left nipple. His mouth was wet and warm, but his beard was scratchy against the sensitive flesh of her tit.

She swallowed a moan, unsure what to do with her hands, which were awkwardly resting on his shoulders. She slid them back into his hair, carding her fingers through it and tightening her grip on it so she wouldn't lose herself too quickly.

He cupped her other breast with his free hand, gently kneading it as he started sucking on her, ever so gently. He flicked his tongue over the bud, groaning and pinching her other nipple, before lightly closing his teeth over the peak in his mouth.

She moaned and sighed his name, hissing at the little nip he gave her. 

"Let me look at you," he growled, disentangling her hands from his hair and kissing her palms before lying back to look up at her.

"Fuck," he groaned, his eyes roaming over her body. "You're so beautiful."

Heat flushed her cheeks and once again part of her wanted to hide, but his darkened eyes locked her in her place. They were filled with desire and a softer, perhaps even tender adoration.

His look made her feel wanted, but the unfamiliar intensity of it was somewhat unsettling. She shifted uncomfortably and Jon hissed in response as her mound rubbed against his hot hard cock through both of their underwear.

The motion had made her aware how wet she was, and she repeated it instinctively. His length twitched against her lower lips, noticeable through the barriers between them.

"Feels good," Jon murmured, eyes fluttering closed.

Encouraged by his reaction, she started rocking her hips back and forth, the fabric between them growing damp. A mewl escaped from her lips as she pushed herself up on her knees to grind more purposefully against him.

Jon's eyes flew open at the sound. "Play with your tits for me?" The request was pleading but soft, making her aware she could refuse if she wanted to, but she complied.

She'd never touched herself like this before, with someone else watching, but the way Jon licked his lips and the reassuring weight of his hands on her hips spurred her on.

She cupped her breasts and squeezed them, rolling her nipples between her fingers. She was soaking her panties and Jon's boxers, and the delicous tension in her body was converging in her core.

She moved more urgently, seeking more friction, but the feeling stagnated. She gritted her teeth and tried harder, but to no avail.

"Do you want to sit on my face, sweetheart?" Jon asked suddenly.

She froze. "Would- would you like that?"

He licked his lips and nodded emphatically,  his eyes drinking in her body. She considered it, but Jon was quick to pick up on her hesitation again.

"Maybe next time," he said, tightly wrapping an arm around her waist to flip them over, drawing a yelp from her lips.

"Next time?" she whispered with a smile when he kissed the shell of her ear.

"Next time," he rasped, grazing her ear with his teeth. "Or the time after, or maybe next week," he suggested, sucking her earlobe between his lips.

She spread her legs so he could settle against her core, exactly where she wanted him and his hips bucked into her, making them groan in unison. He cradled her face in his hands, his lips finding her mouth again, as her own fingers roamed across the planes of his chest. 

His mouth left hers to trail kisses down her jaw and lick a stripe up her throat. One hand slide down her side to the small of her back to pull her up against him as the other cupped the side of her neck, thumb stroking her cheekbone. She inhaled the deep but slightly sweet scent of his hair and felt pleasantly dizzy. His touch was setting her on fire, and she felt ready to burst out of her skin.

His face appeared above hers, and she emerged from her cocoon of bliss and arousal, catching his gaze. He asked: "Can I still go down on you?"

Despite his earlier request, she still found herself muttering: "You don't have to."

Harry had only tried it once and Sansa had spent nearly ten minutes mentally composing a shopping list as his tongue stabbed at her clit, until he'd relieved her by asking: "Have you cum yet?"

"I really want to," Jon declared in a hoarse voice, and Sansa was completely mesmerized by the way those sinfully plump lips curled around the word "want".

She nodded.

His mouth travelled south between her breasts, possessed by an urgency that hadn't been there before. He lowered himself onto his stomach and made quick work of her panties, only pausing to bury his nose in them. She ignored the embarassed blush she could feel rising in her cheeks and propped herself up on her elbows to watch him.

He curled his hands around her thighs and started pressing kisses to the insides of them, trailing his lips up and down, his beard scratching her sensitive skin. His hands stroked and kneaded her skin and the dizzy feeling returned, making her lightheaded and breathless. 

She reached out to twine her fingers through his hair, caressing his cheek and beard, tracing the shape of his lips with her thumb, as he'd done with hers earlier. He closed his lips over her thumb and gave it a light suck, raising his eyebrows.

"Just let me take care of you," he rumbled as he released it. He pushed her thighs further apart with his palms and inclined his head. "Such a pretty cunt," he sighed.

He licked up her slit, lapping up her abundant arousal, groaning into her core. He tongued the sensitive spot below her entrance and she let her head fall back and fisted her hands into the sheets, surrendering to the feeling.

Pleasure coiled low in her belly, drawing a shuddering moan from her lips as his tongue dipped into her. He found her clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue, and began licking it in a steady rhythm. She'd been strung so tight she was already getting close. 

Beyond shame, she started grinding her cunt into his face, releasing cries and chanting his name. One hand found its way into his hair, holding him in his place as she rocked against his tongue. 

His lips closed over her clit, sucking at her, and her thighs clamped shut around his ears, her toes curling out of her remaining shoe as her back arched off the bed.

The tension snapped and she was floating on a cloud of ecstasy, waves of pleasure crashing through her body as a white light exploded behind her eyelids.  

The buzz of her orgasm left her entire body on edge. Jon was there beside her, gathering her in his arms and holding her tightly, soothing that overly sensitive sensation holding her in its power. She could hear herself panting, her heart racing in her chest, and for a couple of moments, his embrace was the only thing keeping her together. 

***

She was all his, spread out on the bed before him like this, so glorious, wearing nothing but her stockings, a fact that made him dig his fingers into her her soft skin and summoned a deep groan from the depths of his chest. 

He imagined her walking around their apartment only wearing those thigh highs, and the image had him rutting into the mattress in a frenzied haze of lust.

Her hand was in his hair and she was grinding her hot wet cunt into his mouth. She was getting close, so close, he could tell. He held her hips more tightly, closing his lips over her clit, and her thighs clamped shut over his ears.

He hummed as she soaked his beard, working her through her climax and emerged from between her legs to lie down beside her. He held her tightly while she came down from her high.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and twisted around to reach behind him into the drawer of his bedside table to retrieve a condom. He had no wish to rush her, but he wanted to be ready. 

Her gaze followed his hand and he saw her eyeing the foil between his fingers. He snuggled into her side and brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her temple. "We can stop if you want," he assured her, even though his throbbing cock objected furiously against that notion.

She shook her head, leaning in to kiss him, and he groaned at the knowledge that she'd be able to taste herself on his lips and tongue. "No," she said firmly. "I want you."

She emphasized her words by reaching down to slip her hand into the waistband of his boxers and wrap her fingers around his shaft. He was aching and leaking, so even her soft tentative touch had him bucking into her hand. She helped him out of his only piece of clothing, and trailed her fingers up his thigh to cup his balls.

"You're driving me crazy," he told her. "I'm dreading what you'll be capable of soon enough."

He couldn't stop kissing her, the desire to caress and taste every single inch of skin within his reach was overwhelming and he thought he could have gone on like that for hours, if it wasn't for his cock throbbing in the grip of her slender fingers. 

"I want you so much," he choked out, burying his face in her neck. 

He pressed another kiss to her jaw. "Do you want to be on top?"

There was a pause, and her hand stilled. "I don't think I'm very good at that."

"I doubt that," he told her honestly. "Besides, I told you I wanted this to be good for you."

"What about you?" she asked.

"If it's good for you it'll be good for me, I promise. Do you really think I won't enjoy watching you ride my cock? I want to see you come for me again." He rolled onto his back to put the condom on and give her some space.

He held out his hand and she took it, swinging a leg over his hips. He smiled up at her and took himself in hand so she could lower herself onto him. He hissed as the tip of his cock slid between her searing hot lips.

As she sank down on him, he released a deep groan at the feeling of being engulfed by her wet heat, resisting the urge to buck up into her. He put his free hand on her hip, gently urging her to start moving. 

"You feel so good, Sansa," he crooned. "So tight."

His words seemed to give her confidence and she settled into a rhythm.He watched as she rode him, whimpering and moaning, flushed tits bouncing up and down, pink lips parted, and eyes heavily hooded.

He pressed his thumb to her clit, groaning as he saw himself move in and out of her. The smooth pace of her rolling hips faltered and she released his hand to brace herself on his chest. She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip and her forehead creased in concentration.

"Don't think, darling," he warned her. "Just let go, use my body to find your pleasure."

She blinked and Jon could swear her shoulders sagged. He could feel her growing tense, and she seemed overwhelmed or flustered even, he thought.

He sat up, gathering her in his arms. He ran his fingers through her hair, playing with her unravelling braid, and then caught her chin between his thumb and finger, leaning in for a kiss.

He bent his knees and started thrusting up into her sweet, hot cunt. He held her closer, pressing their foreheads together. Her soft warm body was all around him, sweat mingling on their skins, hot breaths melting on the other's face. 

With gritted teeth, he focused on the rhythm of his hips instead of the feeling of her around him. When she relaxed in his arms, he flipped her onto her back and lifted her left leg to lie down beside her, pressing himself against her side so he wouldn't slip out of her. 

He slid one arm under her shoulders, pulling her in for a kiss. Dragging his hand down the warm underside of her thigh, he slipped his fingers between her lower lips to find her clit again.

He circled it with his middlefinger, clutching her shoulder and deepening the kiss as he slowly started rocking his hips.

Her fingers darted across his cheek, a sharp exhale fanning out against his lips and her walls were already beginning to tighten up around his length. He moved in and out of her in long slow strokes, grunting at the torturous pleasure of it, and rubbed the hood of her clit back and forth over the swollen nub.

"Gods, yes, come for me, sweetheart," he groaned. 

Soon he had her writhing in his embrace, her back arching up and the thigh he was holding quivering. With a whine she sucked on his bottom lip and pressed herself closer, her cunt clenched around him and she fell apart with a sob.

"That's it," he soothed her. He pressed a quick peck to her lips and pushed himself up on his knees, settling between her legs, and covering her body with his own. She wrapped her legs around his hips and draped her arms around his neck. 

He swivelled his hips to ease himself even deeper inside of her and slid his hands under her ass to pull her up against him. With a groan his eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of her walls still fluttering around him and he shuddered as he started driving into her in earnest now.

"Fuck, why do you feel so good?" he wondered aloud, his voice strained by the pleasure he was feeling. With every thrust he sank deeper into the bliss of Sansa's body, claiming her with every single advance.

There was only the feel of her snug hot cunt around him, the sound of their flesh slapping together and her mewls. His own heart was hammering inside his head, accompanied by his ragged pants and groans.

He opened his eyes to seer her tongue darting out to wet her pink lips. Her tits bounced as he drove into her and her blue eyes were dark and hooded.

His entire body was tensing up, the coil at the base of his spine growing taut beyond possibility, and he lost control over his thrusts. His arms slid around her, holding her close as he pounded into her, his balls tightening up, and waves of pleasure crashed through his body as his climax took him.

He held himself deep inside of her, fingers digging into her skin, he grunted and his hips stuttered, and then he collapsed on top of her, an elated smile making it hard to catch his breath. He rolled to his side so he wouldn't crush her, only disentangling himself to get rid of the condom. 

 _Fuck, that was something else,_ he thought. He'd promised her an experience, but whatever had just happened between them, had been somewhat of a revelation to him as well. 

"I've never made love like that before," she mused aloud, disrupting his thoughts.  _Love._ That was it. They hadn't fucked, they had made love.

"Me neither," he confessed.

He only kissed the confused frown that appeared on her face. There would be time to explain later, if he ever found the words.

"Jon?" she asked tentatively.

He just hummed in response, pulling her closer against him.

"There's something I want to ask of you, a request if you will," she continued and if he had been in a more focused state of mind, he might have picked up on the apprehension in her voice.

"What's that?" he murmured, lazily opening his eyes to find her pleading blue eyes looking up at him.

"I would like you to get rid of your underwear collection," she confessed, biting her lip. "I'll have all the panties you'll want."

His lips parted in surprise, but he quickly collected himself and rolled on top of her with a playful growl, peppering her lips with kisses, a giggly shriek her only response as her fingers curled around his neck. 

"Deal," he agreed. "But I have to warn you, with or without panties, I'll want you either way."


End file.
